


I Want to Ride My Bicycle

by Haydenn11



Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is So Done (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot, Song: Bicycle Race, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haydenn11/pseuds/Haydenn11
Summary: 5. Bicycle Race“Angel, you cannot be serious.”“It will be fun, Crowely,” said Aziraphale, obviously put out by the demon’s lack of enthusiasm toward the velocipede parked between them.“Ngk. Fun? Wh‒ I‒ How‒ Fun?” Crowley sputtered while gesticulating erratically at the ridiculous two-seater bicycle.“Anathema said that she and Newt did it last week and enjoyed it. It will be fun!”It would not be fun. Crowley was sure. Nothing Aziraphale about this ‘bike tour’ had sounded remotely fun. His understanding was that angel intended them to ride a bicycle that they were both, apparently, meant to operate through the city with a dozen or so other humans. All to look at landmarks they had been present for the construction of; landmarks they had been living amongst for several centuries. That was the opposite of fun.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069535
Kudos: 21





	I Want to Ride My Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write. I laughed the whole time. I hope you find it as enjoyable. :)

I occurred to me that I should include a link to the songs that inspire these fics. So, here, have a link: [Bicycle Race by Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GugsCdLHm-Q&ab_channel=znerky)

* * *

“Angel, you cannot be serious.” 

“It will be fun, Crowely,” said Aziraphale, obviously put out by the demon’s lack of enthusiasm toward the velocipede parked between them. 

“Ngk. Fun? Wh‒ I‒ How‒ Fun?” Crowley sputtered while gesticulating erratically at the ridiculous two-seater bicycle. 

“Anathema said that she and Newt did it last week and enjoyed it. It will be fun!”

It would not be fun. Crowley was sure. Nothing Aziraphale about this ‘bike tour’ had sounded remotely fun. His understanding was that angel intended them to ride a bicycle that they were both, apparently, meant to operate through the city with a dozen or so other humans. All to look at landmarks they had been present for the construction of; landmarks they had been living amongst for several centuries. That was the opposite of fun. 

“Angel, please‒”

Aziraphale cut him off. “I want to go! Anathema said it was very fun to do as a‒ a‒ as a couple.”

Crowley groaned even as his resistance began to melt. Aziraphale wanted to go for a romantic, couple-y date with him. How could he say no?

“Where does this thing even go?” He asked, still making an attempt to sound annoyed for appearances sake. 

“Well, it starts quite near to the Houses of Parliament and goes through Hyde Park, St. Kensington Gardens, and St. Jame’s Park.”

“You want go to through St. James’s Park? We are always at St. James’s Park. We don’t need to see it on a bicycle! What will the ducks think?”

“They’ll think we’re having a jolly good time!” 

Crowley groaned again, searching the angel for any signs of relenting. He didn’t find any.

“If you say so, angel,” he sighed resignedly. 

Aziraphale beamed. 

Two hours later, Crowley was strapping an unflattering yellow helmet to his head and doing his very best not to grumble about it too loudly. Aziraphale was watching him fondly, his own helmet already secured. Crowley rolled his eyes, but when the hemet was fastened, he threw his arm around his angel, raising his phone with his free hand. 

“Come on, angel. Picture.”

Aziraphale flushed with pleasure. “Oh, alright. Smile!”

“Cheese!” Crowley said, flashing a goofy grin at the camera and snapping a couple selfies. 

“Okay, ladies and gents, if we could get on our bikes, we’ll be on our way,” called their tour guide in a loud, but cheery voice. 

Crowley and Aziraphale clambered on their bike awkwardly. Crowley was in the front seat, which meant he was responsible for steering, but the both needed to pedal. They got going with much fumbling and several curses from Crowley, but eventually they fell into a rhythm. They followed their guide and the little group of humans also on the tour past Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. They looped up to Trafalgar Square, and meandered toward Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. They stopped at various monuments and palaces along the way. Their guide seemed full of tidbits about each stop, which Aziraphale seemed enthralled by, but that Crowley couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. 

By the time they made it to Buckingham Palace, Crowley was feeling tired, sore, and more than a little annoyed. He made a show of rubbing his aching thighs as they dismounted their bicycle. Of course, he was only as sore as he allowed himself to feel, but that hardly mattered to Crowley in his endeavor to display his disgruntlement. Despite his complaining, he did manage to enjoy himself by making faces at the palace guards and failing to make them break composure. 

“Alright everyone, let's be on our way!” called the tour guide, and the group made its way to where their bikes were parked. 

Crowley sighed, reluctant to return to the dull drudgery of bicycling. He and Aziraphale clambered on to their bike in unison with everyone else. Crowley noted the way they were lined up facing the entrance. 

_Like a starting line_ , he thought. And a wicked smile crept over his face as a brilliant idea to make the day a little more interesting slithered into his head. He snapped his fingers. 

POP! The sound came from a man in a striped shirt holding a starting gun and waving a flag, who most certainly had not been standing there a moment ago. 

“Hold on tight, angel!” Crowley shouted before urging the bike forward as fast as he could. Around him the other humans were acting similarly, suddenly possessed with a need to ride through St. Jame’s park as fast as possible. 

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale gasped. 

“Having fun!” Crowley replied innocently. 

“What did you do?” The angel’s tone was scandalized and accusatory. 

“They wanted to go faster, angel. I just gave them what they wanted.”

“Oh, you wiley thing!”

Crowley laughed as they sped through the park. Many of the human racers began ringing their bike bells to announce their presence to the throngs of pedestrians until they became one chiming mass barreling down the paths of St. James’s Park. 

One of the humans, a tall, fit, dark-haired man, pulled to the forefront of the pack, passing Crowley with a smug look over his shoulder. Crowley noted with disgust that the man looked very much like the Archangel Fucking Gabriel. With a hiss he channeled an extra boost of demonic power into their bike and surged forward after him. 

“Crowley! You’re going to fast for me, dear!” Aziraphale cried, sounding panicked. Crowley snapped and Aziraphale’s seat became more comfortable, reclined slightly with his legs stretched out in front of him, safely out of the way of his pedals which were now moving of their own accord. 

“You can’t win!” yelled the dark-haired man over his shoulder as Crowley caught up to him! “I trained for the Tour de France.”

The smugness in his voice made Crowley more determined than ever. He peddled harder, encouraging their bike forward and gained inch by inch on the dark-haired man. The man, seeing he was being overtaken, swerved suddenly as if to collide with Crowley and Aziraphale, who found themselves miraculously out of the way. Crowley made to respond in kind, but the angel stopped him with a stern, “No, Crowley!” Instead, the demon channeled a little more demonic energy into the bike. 

He was pulling ahead of the dark-haired man, taking the lead at last, when he saw the ducks. A small family of them were crossing the path a few yards in front of them, directly in the path of the bicycles. 

“Hold on, my dear!” Aziraphale cried before Crowley could react. He heard the angel snap his fingers and then several things happened at once. The dark-haired man swerved to avoid the oncoming waterfowl. His tire snagged a stone as he turned, and he was launched from his bike into the grass some yards away. At the same time, Crowley and Aziraphale’s bike launched straight up into the hair, hovering several feet above the ground and soaring over the ducks with ease. Once they were clear, the ducks disappeared and reappeared safely in the pond where they were no longer in danger of being flattened. 

“Ha! Eat my dust, wanker!” Crowley called out to the dark-haired man sprawled across the lawn as he raced onward unimpeded. 

As they neared the checkered finish line at the east entrance of the park, a crowd of slightly bewildered looking people formed around it. They were all cheering and waving little black and white flags adorned with red snakes and flaming swords, but seemed unsure why they were doing so. Nonetheless, they went positively wild and Crowley and Aziraphale crossed the finish line. Crowley dismounted the bike with a smug smile. A silver trophy appeared from nowhere and was presented to him and Aziraphale, along with a large bouquet.

As quickly as it formed, the crowd dissipated, returning to whatever activities they abandoned with looks of disbelief. Crowley snapped another selfie with Aziraphale in front of the finish line before it returned to its normal state of nonbeing. Their tour group came along shortly thereafter, looking exactly like a group of people who had been taking a pleasant bike ride through the city and not at all like participants in an impromptu bicycle race. The dark-haired man brought up the rear, looking slightly worse for wear and more than slightly perplexed. Crowley and Azriaphale waved cheerfully at them as they passed. 

“You really ought not have done that.” Aziraphale chided. 

“Perhaps, angel,” Crowley conceded nonchalantly, “but I’m not the one who manifested flag waving fans and a trophy.”

Aziraphale giggled, and Crowley joined in, unable to resist the infectious nature of the angel’s laugh. 

“It really was quite a lot of fun, wasn’t it, dear?”

Crowley leaned over to kiss the angel’s smile. 

“I couldn't agree more, angel.”


End file.
